A place where one of the Eric Rasmussens out there uploads various writings.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

My 15-16

I.

Occasionally we see freshmen boys who haven’t made
it through puberty by the time they reach our building. As if high school isn’t
challenging enough, these guys stand feet shorter than their classmates, with
kid voices and skinny arms that look painfully inadequate for shouldering the
enormous backpacks and stresses we hoist upon them.

Three years ago, I taught a section of freshmen as an
overload when a colleague transferred to another school. Because it was my
third prep and sixth class that year, those ninth graders and I kept our time together casual. They knew I had taken on more work than I could comfortably
handle. I rewarded their understanding with flexible due dates and extra time
spent on the film analysis unit.

In that section, I had one of those yet-to-mature boys. He
sat up front and compensated for his stature with enthusiasm, as if no one told him he was supposed to abandon his excitement in middle school. I will
always remember that section of English 9, and he was one of the big reasons
why.

Three years later, he showed up on my English 12 class list,
and on the first day of school, I didn’t recognize him. He was all grown up.
The enthusiasm remained, but he had tempered it, channeled it into outlets more
appropriate to a senior in high school. He was quieter, but he still earned the
highest grade in the class.

I don’t know if this student will remember me. I tried to
provide a worthwhile experience for him, but he was well into a successful life
regardless of his 9th and 12th grade English classes.
There are some kids who need the specific curricula they learn in school, but
for a lot of them, the best we teachers can do is watch them grow up and keep
them occupied while they do.

It’s like planning a party. I can put together some killer
decorations, and whip up some incredible appetizers. I can pick the perfect
music, and I can flit around and try to make sure everyone’s having a good
time. But whether or not the party becomes something memorable, something epic,
something important, that’s not really up to me. Sometimes it happens.
Sometimes it doesn’t.

With that kid, we had a monumental party, and I just hope I was able to contribute.

II.

The third-to-last thing public schools need is more political
discussion to distract students and teachers from their jobs. The second-to-last thing we need is more politicians trying to convince voters that, despite having
no experience in an actual school, they know what’s best for schools. And the
absolute last thing our particular public school needed during the 2015-16
school year was a visit from Donald Trump.

We didn’t need any of those things, but we got them
nonetheless.

This blog is a bad place to argue education politics, so I’ll
just acknowledge some facts.

1.The politics of education have made lots of
people really upset.

2.Really upset people often have a hard time
seeing things from others’ perspectives and compromising to find solutions.

3.Helping really upset people become less upset is
probably a critical step to solving their problems.

Donald Trump is not the best guy out there to help
people become less upset. But that didn’t matter, because the weekend before
Wisconsin’s primary, he needed a place to speak, and our school’s auditorium
was open, so we hosted one of the most colorful and divisive figures in modern
politics. The days between the announcement and the visit felt like the air
before a storm. The teachers did their best to diffuse tense political
discussions. The students quickly learned not to say anything too offensive or
threatening.

And then I overheard the following conversation.

Student A (after tapping the screen of his cell phone): “No
way! I just got tickets to Donald Trump.”

Student B: “Nice!”

A: “Do you want to go?”

B: “Sure. I’m not working.”

A: “What should we wear?”

B: “I was thinking about wearing my sombrero.”

A: “Good idea.”

Let’s be honest. Things can’t be that bad if you’re wearing
a sombrero.

For a lot of years, I’ve worried about the politics of education. I’ve lost sleep over it, I’ve shed tears over
it, my values and understandings of my fellow citizens have changed, in fundamental and not very positive ways, because of education politics. And all of that stress and worry, work and voting has changed exactly
nothing about my job, my paycheck, the professional respect afforded me by my
district, or my stature in the community.

Maybe it’s time for me to buy a sombrero.

III.

2015-16 was my eleventh year teaching, the kickoff of my second
decade in the classroom. Maybe I’ve done all the good I can do as a teacher, or
maybe there’s more left. Maybe my early-millenial generation status means I’ll
never be happy doing anything for longer than a decade, or maybe I can find contentment
in a 35-year teaching career. Maybe next year will be better than this year.
Maybe it won’t.

But I still signed everyone’s yearbook with “Thanks for the
great year!” And I meant it.